Part 9 (1/2)

I start to think of how I could tease her about this, when the gla.s.s door opens and a girl with light, wavy hair walks out of the store. She has big dark eyes, and when she sees us a smile blooms across her face. And as Dylan turns to look at her, I watch this amazing thing happen. Dylan, in her skintight black jeans, safety-pinned s.h.i.+rt, and bulky armbands, with her hair sticking out in every direction and that black freshly smeared around her eyes, doesn't just smile, doesn't just walk toward Maddy and put her arms around her. No. Instead, every muscle in her whole body seems to lose all tension, her step forward resembles a skip, and she lets out a hey hey that might as well say that might as well say, I love you, you are so beautiful, no one in the world is as amazing as you are.

32.

Sitting at an outdoor table at a cafe a few blocks from Copy Cat, Maddy leans over the round, green tabletop and says, ”Caitlin, tell me about yourself. What do you enjoy doing?”

It's the kind of question I'd expect parents to ask a guy you wanted to date. It sounds so adult, but for some reason I kind of like it. She c.o.c.ks her head and waits for an answer. Dylan is leaning back in her metal chair, rubbing her finger against the snaps of her leather bracelet.

Maddy looks at me as intently as Dylan does, but in a different way. When Dylan stares at me it's like she's looking through me, learning all the things about me that I don't even know. Maddy just looks focused. It makes me think for a second. I want to say photography, but it's only been a day since Dylan watched as I took the worst photograph imaginable. How would I look if I admitted that I was purposely failing at something I loved?

So I say, ”I like building things.” I listen to the words as they come out, testing how they make me sound.

Maddy looks interested and Dylan glances up from her bracelet.

”Out of wood,” I add.

”So you're an artist,” Maddy says. ”That's fantastic. What do you build?”

I try to figure out how to tell the truth without making myself sound really lame. I decide to focus on the future. ”I'm about to build a treehouse,” I say. ”But not like a kid one.”

”Like the ones in that book you just checked out?” Dylan asks. She sips her coffee-her third refill of the afternoon.

”Yeah,” I say. ”I have this great tree in my backyard I'm going to use.”

Maddy looks excited. ”My parents have a friend in Oregon who has a treehouse on his property. It's so beautiful. I sit up there all the time when we visit him. I'd love to see yours when you finish it.”

”Yeah,” I say. ”Definitely, you should.”

”Maddy's an actor,” Dylan tells me, resting her hand on Maddy's back.

”That's so cool,” I say. ”I took drama one semester but I wasn't that good. I got stage fright.”

Maddy says, ”I used to get nervous before performances, too, but it went away. Now I have a ritual that I do before the production starts where I imagine a light around me, protecting me from what everyone in the audience thinks. It sounds strange, but it works.”

She explains this so confidently that I'm convinced. I ask, ”So are you going to move to L.A. after you graduate?”

”Oh, no,” Maddy says. She shakes her head, and her white sh.e.l.l earrings sway back and forth. ”I'm only interested in theater.”

I sip the macchiato I ordered and wish I'd gotten something different. I like the little cups they come in, and all the foam, but the actual drink is so bitter. I haven't discovered the right coffee drink yet.

”So, Dylan,” I say. ”What do you you enjoy?” enjoy?”

Dylan shrugs. ”I'm still finding myself,” she says.

Maddy laughs. ”She just doesn't like to brag. She's crazy smart. Do you know how she spent five straight summers of her life?”

Dylan laughs. ”Shut up,” she says to Maddy, but she says it sweetly.

”Physics camp!” Maddy shouts. Then she repeats it, solemnly: ”Physics camp.” camp.”

It's hard to believe. All the science geeks at school spend their lunch period in little cl.u.s.ters, talking about acceptance rates at MIT. And rarely is anyone good at both science and English.

Dylan shrugs. ”We got to make electromagnets and measure light and stuff. It was fun.”

We sit for a while longer, just talking, and I wonder what it would be like to be really pa.s.sionate about something. I thought photography was it for me. I thought I loved it and I was good at it. Now it turns out that I only loved it.

”I'll be right back,” Dylan says. She gets up from the table and Maddy smiles at her retreating figure, all long skinny limbs and shoulder blades and wild hair.

When Dylan's back inside the cafe, Maddy says, ”I'm glad she found you. She was worried that she wouldn't find any friends in Los Cerros.”

I fidget in my seat. ”Yeah,” I say. ”It's a pretty small school.”

”I'm sorry to hear about your friend.”

I stare, startled, into my macchiato cup. It's still full and getting colder.

”I'm sorry,” Maddy says. ”I know it must seem strange for me to say that. But I wanted to let you know that Dylan lost someone, too. It's not something she likes to talk about, so please don't mention anything. But know that she understands what you're going through. She's an amazing person. I'm also glad that you you found found her her.”

33.

On the way home from the city, I sit next to Maddy in the backseat of Dylan's mom's car and wonder how it works when Maddy spends the night. I mean, her mom obviously knows that they're a couple. Do they both sleep in Dylan's room?

Dylan twists around in her seat as we pull up to my house. ”So, want to hang out at lunch on Monday?” she asks me.

”Yeah,” I say. ”Meet me at our lockers?”

”Great,” Dylan says.

I thank her mom for the ride and I'm about to tell Maddy that it was nice to meet her when she unbuckles her seat belt and leans over to hug me. ”It was so nice to meet you,” she says. ”I really hope we can see each other again soon.”

I hug her back. When we let go, Dylan and her mom are both looking at us, smiling. I want to spend the rest of my life in this car. I want to be frozen in time here, prop my knees up on the back of Dylan's seat, and just stay. But the lights glow through the curtains of my house, and I open my car door to the night.

”Bye,” I say.

Together, they say good-bye back.

Inside, my parents ask how my day was.